Sheridan and Kelly were one day in earnest conversation close to the gate of the path which was then open to the public, leading across the churchyard of St Paul’s, Covent Garden, from King street to Henrietta street, when Mr Holloway, who was a creditor of Sheridan’s to a considerable amount, came up to them on horseback, and accosted Sheridan in a tone of something more like anger than sorrow, and complained that he never could get admittance when he called, vowing vengeance against the infernal Swiss, Monsieur François, if he did not let him in the next time he went to Hertford street.
Holloway was really in a passion. Sheridan knew that he was vain of his judgment in horse-flesh, and without taking any notice of the violence of his manner, burst into an exclamation upon the beauty of the horse which he rode—he struck the right chord.
“Why,” said Holloway, “I think I may say there never was a prettier creature than this. You were speaking to me, when I last saw you, about a horse for Mrs Sheridan; now, this would be a treasure for a lady.”
“Does he canter well?” said Sheridan.
“Beautifully,” replied Holloway.
“If that’s the case, Holloway,” said Sheridan, “I really should not mind stretching a point for him. Will you have the kindness to let me see his paces?”
“To be sure,” said the lawyer; and putting himself into a graceful attitude, he threw his nag into a canter along the market.
The moment his back was turned, Sheridan wished Kelly good morning, and went off through the churchyard, where no horse could follow, into Bedford street, laughing immoderately, as indeed did several of the standers-by. The only person not entertained by this practical joke was Mr Holloway.—Reminiscences of Michael Kelly.
Maid-Servants and their “Friends.”—Every master and mistress in the United Kingdom knows what a maid-servant’s friend is. Sometimes he is a brother, sometimes a cousin (often a cousin), and sometimes a father, who really wears well, and carries his age amazingly! He comes down the area—in at the window—or through a door left ajar. Sometimes a maid-servant, like a hare, “has many friends.” The master of the house, after washing his hands in the back kitchen, feels behind the door for a jack-towel, and lays hold of a “friend’s” nose. “Friends” are shy: sometimes a footman breaks a friend’s shins while plunging into the coal-cellar for a shovel of nubblys. We speak feelingly, our own abode having been once turned into a friends’ meeting-house—a fact we became aware of through a smoky chimney; but a chimney will smoke when there is a journeyman baker up it.—Kidd’s Journal.
Wisdom cannot be obtained without industry and labour. Can we hope to find gold upon the surface of the earth, when we dig almost to the centre of it to find lead and tin, and the baser metals!